


un-bee-leiveable

by blackholenipples



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/F, Identity Porn, Slow Burn, a bunch of fluff that was supposed to be for the 2k17 BB but i have issues with deadlines, idek if they are ever going to actually kiss at this point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-06 18:11:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13416777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackholenipples/pseuds/blackholenipples
Summary: Alya Cesaire wants to be the go-to source about all of the latest and greatest exploits of Paris's super hero population.Unforseen side effects of the job? Kidnapping, damsel-in-distressing and distressing crushes on Ladybug and Chat Noir's pretty new partner





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> oh god i'm so sorry

Alya’s getting a little tired of being kidnapped.

Twice in a month is more than any teenage blogger should ever have to deal with. Not to mention the time that she’d been taken over by Lady Wifi, which you could theoretically consider a kidnapping of the soul. Three.

And honestly, it’s getting to be a little offensive. It’s not like she’s helpless.  

Yet here she is, once again captive to the villain of the week; Everglow.

Must be a Thursday.

The girl looks like a disco ball and for once it’s not because of a silver dress. Her face is glittering— no, that’s not right. Shining.

It’s kind of gross, to be honest. She’s probably pretty, with her wide eyes and button nose, but the shifting silver skin makes her look alien. Other. It doesn’t help that every time she moves, Alya’s eyes are drawn to a different part of her body. She’ll shift her weight and then she’ll lose the sunlight reflecting off a hand. Instead, a shoulder looks like it’s been woven out of diamond dust and unicorn fur. The glare is starting to give her a headache, and the entire effect is nausea-inducing.

Alya doesn’t particularly want to know what she looks like right now. Everglow had stroked her cheek after tying her up. That was the moment she’d gone down from a blazing ball of light to an eyesore. As though Alya had been staring at the ocean on a summer’s afternoon, and suddenly remembered the sunglasses sitting in her hair. But there’s a silvery tint to everything in her peripherals that makes Alya fear that she’s just in the eye of a personal lightstorm.

From the monologuing, Alya’s put together a few things. Everglow is a University student. She likes makeup. A lot. Dropping, and shattering her favourite highlighter was enough to ruin her week. Which was when Papillon had decided he’d rather have her ruin Ladybug’s day.

He promised to make her a star. Shining, shimmering and splendid. In return for a little favour.

And now Alya’s stuck as bait in a trap for Paris’s most heroic duo. Tied up in somebody’s old rocking chair and hidden away in a tiny attic. The giant stained glass window to her left shows that they’re across the street from the park by Marinette’s house. To her right are a set of smaller mirrors through which she can feel what little heat you get from Paris’s morning sun. There’s a fair bit of light shining through.

Not that she’ll be here long.

Really, what kind of villain let her hostage keep her phone. Especially a known Ladybug blogger. Granted, most people couldn't type with their hands tied behind their back. But it was still a possibility. Lazy villainy.

Or…

Alya wants desperately to dismiss the akuma as vapid and self-obsessed. But… it’s an efficient strategy. Kidnap a budding journalist and a known ally of the heroes. Bring her to the battlefield of your choice. Make sure her bonds are fairly loose and conveniently forget to take away her phone.

It’s clever. It should be obvious. But, what kind of makeup geek actually uses their head?

Ladybug and Chat Noir have to deal with all of the city’s akuma. Potential traps included. Alya starts typing.

_ LadyBlog entry #521 _

_ Taken Hostage! Akuma on the Loose!! _

_ Everglow. _

_ Ability? Possibly able to make anything she's touched ‘glow’ so brightly it will temporarily impair an enemy's vision. Currently active on 2 surfaces, akuma herself and my face. _

_ I am currently being held hostage at the red-painted house across from Place des Vosges, three houses down from the T&S bakery on rue 29. Top floor. Window facing park leads right into hostage room. _

Posted.

Now the fun part.

Watch. Listen. Wait to be rescued.

Just another terribly interesting day in the life of your average Parisian teenager.

The akuma is admiring her reflection in a silver-backed hand mirror. She’s humming to herself and poking at different parts of her face. Maybe she’s worried the silver will come off.

Alya lets her thoughts drift to the French paper that her class has just been assigned. They’re supposed to write about the difference in language between france and another french-speaking nation of their choice. She might write about Canada. Maybe Morocco?

Alya’s always had a talent for hearing things she shouldn’t. She’s got sensitive ears. There’s a noise from above her. Sounds like a toddler taking a step. Not quite heavy enough to be a full-sized person, unless they’re wearing magic boots.

Well that didn't take long.

Everglow, of course, has yet to notice a thing.

Alya opens her mouth, because snark is really the best defence against stupidity—

And Chat Noir, in a flawless demonstration of perfect dramatic timing, crashes feet-first through the window and lands in a superhero crouch among shards of fallen glass. Wearing a blindfold.

Really, the black leather catsuit wasn't bad enough?

In less than three seconds, Paris’s superheroes have flown through the window and struck a pose. Sure, they look suitably intimidating, but Alya would rather they hurry up and distract the villain of the week so she can escape and make her lunch date with Marinette. It’s Saturday, and a girl has a caffeination schedule to follow.

And then she does a double take.

She doesn’t even try to bite back her giggles.

Because while Ladybug may not have elected to be as conservative in her estimation of the akuma’s power as Chat Noir and wear a blindfold, she evidently read Alya’s post and prepared. Which makes sense, considering she doesn’t have the same magically-enhanced senses as Chat. While his eyesight gives him an advantage in fights that happen at night, it would only hinder him here. And his ears and nose will give him enough of an edge to make up for the loss. In fact, Alya’s pretty sure he used the same technique against the nightlight kid a year ago. She remembers trying to edit footage of that battle and having every shot of him turn out to be unusable because his eyes had been closed.

But.

Ladybug is wearing a goofy-looking pair of red and blue sunglasses made in the shape of miniature Eiffel Towers. They’re a cheap set that Alya remembers being on sale in the gift shop of the hotel grand paris for a week after Jagged Stone’s last local concert. A cheap copy of the rock star’s famous shades.

Really, the biggest thing you learn by following and blogging about superheroes is that they’re all massive drama queens. Kicking in a window to rescue a hostage and making an entrance, posing for the intimidation factor and then ruining the whole effect with their accessories. And the whole bit with the synchronised head turning to level matching accusing glares at an innocent hostage.

Watching the two of them in action gets better every time. Every fight, they get more synchronized. And it’s been two years of fighting an average of 3.75 akumas a week.

They’ve gotten pretty darn good.

When they move, it’s simultaneous. Everglow rushes them. Ladybug goes high and Chat Noir goes low and around. A classic pincer move their enemies should be able to detect and evade by now, except—

They’re fast. And fluid. And perfect. Both hit Everglow at the right moment. Chat Noir takes out her support, attacking the legs and picking an ankle up off the floor to tip her over. She kicks downwards, trying to right herself.

And Ladybug follows up. She drops in from the ceiling. Yoyo poised, she reaches for the mirror.

Miss. Everglow twists of reach and out of chat’s claws at the last instant. He tries to right himself and over balances with a mew of shock. He trips two steps forwards and crashes into a dusty box.

Ladybug is faring a little better, but her face seems to have taken on a permanent wince. The room has no lights, but even the weak rays of sunlight filtering through the east-facing window are reflected enough to blind. You can’t actually look directly at everglow’s skin between the colour and the movement. Alya takes a moment to mentally thank her mother for insisting on dorky photogrey lenses in her glasses.

And suddenly, she’s distracted from the fight by a whisper behind her.

“They say with great power comes the ability to touch people in costume without giving them a heart attack. I'm just the new kid, so this might sting a little.” The voice is smooth and cultured, with a melodious quality that screams of years of singing lessons. Young, female, and pitched low from a few feet behind her. Barely loud enough for her to make out. Apparently, her knight in shining armour today is a real-live princess charming.

Alya has to stop herself from tensing up, or worse, looking back. Busy as the trio in front of her may be, there’s always a chance that Everglow would pick up on an escape attempt.

She drags her focus back to the fight. A kick. Black leg, so Chat Noir’s out of the box. Shiny. That’s Ladybug’s yoyo in everglow’s hand, so she must be fighting back.

Thirty seconds. Forty. Forty fi--there! The unmistakeable green glow of Chat Noir’s Cataclysm gives the silvery sparkles on his mask an eerie glow.

And then Alya stops being able to process.

Something touches her wrist, where the ropes were digging into her skin. And then the buzzing of thousand bumblebees fills her mind. Her flesh feels like crawling, like tiny little insect feet milling about all over her skin. Everything is washed in gold. Her bones are heavy. They feel liquidly, like they’re being melted by the pressure around her. The air is sickly sweet and dense. It’s crushing her.

Alya’s being taken over by something bigger than herself.

No thanks. She’s been controlled before. This magic makes it feel like she’s a fly stuck in a honey trap, but it’s still magic. Still familiar. This might not be butterflies filling her stomach and shadows in her veins, but it’s still trying to take her over. Not happening.

Alya will not be Lady Wifi again. Ever. Magic might be enough to isolate her from everything around her, but she is not going to lose herself. Not again.

Regaining control is a battle. A large part of her wants to let it be, because she’s only human. What can she do about something so completely overpowering?

The sweetness is disgusting on her tongue. She likes her food spicy and her coffee black.

Magic is supposedly a combination of will and imagination. Lady WiFi could do it with a blink and a whim. Alya imagines it's a little bit harder for someone who's not being powered up by Papillon. She concentrates. Tunes it all out. Thinks about her morning coffee. Dark, bitter, and enough to wake you up before the caffeine even hits. So strong you could probably dissolve spoons in it. With the faintest undertone of orange and chocolate. She wants it. Wants it so bad she can almost taste it.

And just like that, it’s gone. The air tastes like dust bunnies and the only sweetness on her tongue is the memory of the strawberry she’d stolen from her sister’s breakfast plate.

Okay, this can be done. And better yet, she can do more than just isolate herself from the magic. She can return to reality. That's worth the effort.

She can taste the air but everything else is still out of her control. She wants to know what's going on.

Alya wants her ears. The buzz is everywhere. It's no more important than the low battery beeping her phone does when she's in the middle of a story. Of no consequence. She'll deal with it later. Instead she lets her mind swell up with music. Loud, desperate, angry music. It pounds between thoughts. It dances.

It pops.

She hears a gasp. Hers, of course.

Okay, she can think. She can taste, and she can hear. Sight next.

Focus. Eyes closed.

See it, in the mind’s eye. The Alya in her head is dressed in a burnt orange leather jacket over soft cream-coloured leggings and matching soft-soled boots. She’s wearing a half-face white mask with gold detailing slanting the eyes and inside the ears. There’s golden flowers swirling into a semblance of whiskers on the cheeks and a splash of gold on the lower edge that somehow makes her think of a trickster’s laugh. But more importantly, she’s holding a Warhammer. Red-orange and tipped with a flat head on one side and a vicious spiked point on the other. Alya grins. Imagines lifting it, swinging it—

And the sparkles shatter around her.

She blinks. Everglow’s still got Ladybug’s yoyo. Ladybug herself is a few paces back. Chat Noir’s hand is still glowing with the light of an unused Cataclysm. Her magic trance evidently didn’t take long.

The heroes share a glance. Alya can’t help a wince in anticipation of what that means for their villain of the day.

There’s a muttered curse from behind her. Right. The magician.

She still can’t feel. Can’t smell. It’s probably a terrible idea to even consider fighting a magician when magic affects her the way it does. Especially when she’s not at 100% to start with.

For the sake of a completely rational hatred of magic, she’ll keep her options open.

Alya’s hands are easily freed. There’s still ropes around her ankles and a hand on her wrist. She’s still being magicked though.

Alya yanks her arms apart. The left one comes free of the tangle. It’s easy enough to free herself from the magician’s hand and the giant knot she’s made of her restraints.

The last of the tingling vanishes from her skin and the smell of rotting wood assaults her nose and brings her focus back to the fight. Ladybug is holding her yoyo in one hand and a spotted camera in the other. Everclear is trapped on one of the few sections of the floor still intact, legs pinned underneath a heavy oak cabinet.

They’ve obviously got that under control.

A girl in a wasp-themed costume darts out from behind her to join the heroes. So princess charming’s a good guy. Alya is slightly disappointed that she won’t get to punch a magician today.

A new hero. There’s a story there.

She’s got the most ridiculously bouncy blonde ponytail and what looks like fur-trimmed boots. She goes to stand next to Ladybug as Chat Noir grabs something from Everclear’s hand.

He stomps, and the mirror shatters. A black butterfly flutters out, and it’s end is inescapable.

“I release you from evil” Ladybug says. The faint whisper of  _ something _ raises the hair on Alya’s arms and maybe it’s more of an incantation than the catchphrase she’d always assumed.

Ladybug’s yoyo releases a white butterfly and a heaviness that was in the air dissipates. Alya knows these sensations, had always thought it was the relief of a battle won, rather than any sort of arcane purification rite.

Magic spidey-sense is stronger than ever and that’s a definitive yes on Ladybug preforming not one, but two separate spells at the end of every magic fight. She has to brace herself before the lucky charm.

It’s not quite as bad as expected, but Alya’s going to need some Advil when she gets home.

“Wait!”

Ladybug and Chat Noir don’t. But they’ve got a time limit. Blondie turns.

“Who are you?” Alya demands. “and why join the fight now?”

She grins. And it’s not a nice civilian-needs-to-be-comforted-or-placated grin she always gets out of Ladybug or Chat Noir. It’s a grin that promises trouble. Hopefully not for her.

“Queen B.” Well. That suits her.

“And I have a message for you, Miss Cesaire. Feel free to quote.”

Her posture straightens the same way politicians seem to brace themselves before making speeches. Like she’s the type of person who expects to be on camera and acts accordingly without really thinking about it. Interesting.

Alya fumbles for the recording app on her phone. She’s a little distracted, because Queen B really is exceptionally pretty. What is it with this city’s superheroes and intense gem-like eyes?

“The fox has turned against us.” So Volpina’s back. But Alya’s pretty sure she’s missing at least half of the underlying context.

“Our city now has another enemy. The girl who is a fox is just as powerful as Papillon. We have been at a standstill with him for years because he has a code of honour and no head for strategy. She is not constrained by his limitations. Volpina is coming, and I intend to stop her. The fox is an escalation of our magical arms race and I am here to make them take it back.”

With that, she steps back, falls out the window and flies away.

Damn.

Alya’s phone buzzes.

Mari


	2. Chapter 2

For all his faults, Mayor Bourgeois sure knows how to throw a party. They’re in the back gardens of the Hotel Grand Paris, but it feels a little like she’s stepped into wonderland.

There’s fairy lights strung through the roses and a wide open dance floor has been temporarily installed in the middle of the lawn. There’s white wicker chairs and tables grouped all around for small talk and several long buffet tables full of finger foods by the wall of flowers. On the other side of the dance floor, the wide, shallow pool often featured in Chloe’s Instagram shoots is full of floating tealights and fragrant flowers. The usual lounge chairs are nowhere to be seen.

In a corner, there’s a strings quartet just warming up. The soft, even music sits at a comfortable volume just under the murmur of elegant conversation.

There’s about fifty people in the room. They’re grouped together like stunning little flocks of butterflies. She easily recognises Gabriel Agreste, resplendent in a lavender and white suit with silver detailing that would look utterly ridiculous on anyone else. He’s got a half-dozen other designers, magazine editors and photographers hanging off his every word. Nearby, Prime Minister Phillipe holds court over both local and international politicians.

Alya’s more interested in the biggest little group. Chat Noir and Ladybug are the shining stars in a group of Paris’s young social influencers. There’s a couple of world-famous models, undoubtedly in town for Gabriel’s upcoming show. A few various socialites and a couple of actors. Sophie LaCroix, a local TV actress who just got a supporting role in a popular American show, is there and decked out in a periwinkle dress with familiar lines. Good for Marinette.

Honestly, she’s pretty sure both Chat Noir and Ladybug are wearing Marinette’s designs, but Alya’s trying not to be offended her friend hadn’t spilled. Ladybug looks gorgeous in a structured red dress the exact colour of her suit. It’s simple but expertly tailored to hug her chest and flare out sharply at the perfect point to emphasize her miniscule waist. Her arms and legs are still covered by the polka-dots of her suit, but her costume’s been altered to leave her chest and neck on display. Chat Noir looks delicious. He’s wearing a black shirt rolled up to his elbows under the palest green suit vest and slim pants that Alya’s ever seen. The only parts of his superhero suit on display are the mask and a black ring on his right hand. If he were anything less than stunningly gorgeous, he’d look silly. Instead, he just looks like he’s stepped off a runway.

She makes her way over.

Ladybug smiles at her, and makes a round of introductions. Conversation with this group is easy and friendly. They go through recent political disasters, the best and worst charities to donate to in terms of efficiency, and settle on a discussion about next week’s Gabriel show.

Alya’s laughing at an innuendo Chat Noir’s just made about the ladybugs and the bees when something taps her shoulder. She turns, and Chloe Bourgeois has got a hand extended in clear invitation. The first few couples are already on the floor, twirling gently together.

Alya and Chloe aren’t quite friends, but they run in the same circles at school these days. Chloe has become a lot gentler and more bearable over the last two years, and had struck up a surprising friendship with Marinette a few months ago. And she’s best friends with Adrien, who is undoubtedly going to end up dating Mari sometime in the next month or two. Alya has money on the last week of march.

She's gorgeous tonight in a short champagne off the shoulder dress that shows off the toned muscles of her legs and the faint golden freckles splashed across her shoulders. For once, her hair is down and it shimmers in a straight fall of blonde down to the middle of her back. The unexpected length is momentarily distracting.

Alya takes the outstretched hand before she can think better of it.

Chloe pulls her in and leads her into a few simple steps that Alya actually remembers practising in gym earlier in the year. It's easy and comfortable, two things she would never have expected to associate with Chloe of all people.

“I heard about the Akuma attack the other day,” she says in the same upper-class accent that's always gotten on Alya’s nerves. “You're alright I hope.”

Alya nods, because the answer is fairly obvious.

“Good. My life is far more interesting when you and Marinette are capable academic adversaries.”

Alya grins “not Adrien?”

“I know when I’m outclassed,” she says with a smile and they twist.

Chloe’s smile doesn’t leave for the next two dances and Alya finds herself grinning until her cheeks hurt. She begs out in the middle of their third dance to grab some water and eventually ends up dancing with a bunch of other guests.

She gets a few interview promises and a laugh out of the prime minister, so Alya’s ready to call the night a huge success.

Chloe appears, magically.

“It’s the end of the first set.” She says. “I would be honoured if you let me have the last dance before dinner.”

Chloe’s energy is effervescent. Evidently, she’s had just enough champagne to turn the charm up to full blast. Alya would call her out on it, but she’s had enough herself to make a slow dance with her old school nemesis seem like the best idea she’s had tonight.

Alya smiles and places a hand on Chloe’s waist. She gets led out for her trouble and Chloe pulls her in close.

It’s a slow song, and they sway gently together. Of all the night’s surprises, Alya thinks that the way she and Chloe fit together might be the biggest one. Alya’s maybe an inch shorter. They don’t move like adversaries, or even reluctant acquaintances. It’s a dance of equals, of friends. Had you asked her a few days ago, she would have said that dancing with Chloe would be like an elegantly choreographed battle. Fun and challenging, but competitive enough to feel dangerous. Instead it’s just nice.

She’s good at this. And gorgeous in the fading light. There’s an appreciation in those pretty blue eyes that says that Alya’s attraction is returned and she can’t help but hope that she might just get a kiss at the end of the dance.

The last note hangs over the couples on the dance floor for what feels like an eternity. It’s an unbroken spell of hope and light and romance until Ladybug lets go of her partner and brings her hands together. The rest of the guests follow into a round of applause that is just a little bit too loud to be polite. With a smile, Chloe removes her hand and Alya can feel the imprint of a warm grip lingering on her hip. Both women join in the applause, still a little caught in the magic of a moonlit dance. Alya gets a few seconds to wonder if she’ll get to end the night as pleasantly as it began, in the top floor of the Hotel Grand Paris instead of the back gardens.

The music fades and a female vocalist takes over.

And then Chloe giggles.

The night is warm. So warm.

[There’s someone screaming in the back of her head. The music drowns it out.]

It’s nice. But she kind of wants to cool off.

You know what would be nice? A swim. Chloe has a pool.

Alya looks around, and Oh! How lovely!

The icky thorny gardens have turned into a maze of canals.

[Every hair on Alya’s arms is standing straight up. Instincts are overruled by the reflection of lights on the water.]

Like Venice.

How romantic.

Alya wants to swim. She walks up to the edge of the water.

[Part of her is screaming to get back. Get out of there!]

But

Her dress. It’s too pretty to get wet.

The momentary stop is enough.

The illusion shatters, and Alya looks around her. The pretty partygoers in their jewel toned finery are being lured into dark rivers. The grounds have changed and the water looks sinister and deep. There’s a voice singing in a language she doesn’t understand, trying to convince her to go back underwater.

“Come swim.” It says to a part of her that wants nothing more than to bathe in the magic. “The water is free of all worries.”

Thank god she’s got siblings. Alya’s pretty used to tuning out requests to go swimming by this point.

Alya sticks two fingers in her mouth and lets out the loudest, most piercing whistle she can.

Beside her, Chloe shakes herself free of the spell. Around them, there’s others starting to shake off the magic. The music is still going, but Alya’s whistle was enough that some local Parisians, the ones who survive regular Akuma attacks, have caught on. Many have their hands planted firmly over their ears and are making their way out of the soon-to be fight area and moving towards the hotel doors.

Other guests are more heroic. Alya can see Sophie LaCroix dragging prince Ali back towards the hotel. Sabrina Raincomprix has two famous models by the arms and is desperately trying to stop them from going further into the water than they already are.

Over Chloe’s shoulder, in the centre of the congregation, Paris’s heroes are moving. Chat Noir is on the ground, clutching his ears and writhing in agony and Ladybug is running along the canals and pulling out visitors as fast as she can whip her yoyo. She’s obviously wary of the water. She isn’t leaving anyone to go back, either. Just pulling them out and then knocking them out.

Miraculous healing will affect any potential concussions and this stops them from drowning if they lose.

The grounds are already littered with soaked bodies.

“Shit.” Alya’s never actually heard Chloe swear before.

“I have to go. Be careful.” She says. Chloe’s eyes are very blue and very determined.

She spins on her heel, and runs towards her father, who is still standing kind of stunned at the foot of the hotel’s back steps. Chloe tackles him bodily through the doors.

Later, Alya will have time to be suspicious. For now, she grabs her phone from between her breasts and thanks whatever deity controls twenty first century technology for the unbroken glass screen. Second nature by now to record, Alya’s got her video app up and is moving away from the water when the singing stops.

Most of the thrall victims are either out cold or already underwater. Everyone else has evacuated.

“I am The Siren.” The voice is melodious and Alya can feel herself being swayed. It’s like cuttlefish dragging her feet under. Small and weak. It’s much weaker now that she’s aware of the magic. She shuts out the coercion without much effort.

A form rises out of the point where the four streams meet, and how had Alya not noticed that it was a connecting point. It’s a woman with long dark hair and eyes that are a flat blue. She’s got the tail and seashell bra of a cartoon mermaid, but there is something inherently sinister about her.

Chat Noir gets up.

There’s a flash of green light and his finery’s gone.

“I hope you realise,” he says, eyes narrowing. “That we’re going to take you out before the tide comes back in.”

Ladybug’s yoyo wraps around the siren’s waist and the Akuma goes up. She flies in an arc to slam down on the ground behind Ladybug.

Chat Noir leaps over the streams to help, but a green-tinged hand yanks on his tail. He twirls in midair and the hand comes out of the water along with the body of a greenish Gabriel Agreste and the two of them land on the bank beside Ladybug.

Chat Noir’s face has taken on a greenish tinge of an entirely different variety.

The siren laughs. The evil laugh of doom is probably Alya’s least favorite Akuma trope.

There’s drowned zombies coming out of the water. Not many, maybe a dozen celebrities with greenish skin and indigo eyes, but the creep factor for this shit is super high.

Ladybug is beating up the siren, but Chat Noir looks to be having trouble keeping the zombies away from her. His staff is a blur of silver, and bodies are flying, but regardless of how far he manages to fling them out onto the grass they walk back through the water and get right back into the fight. They’re trying to drag him into one of the streams, and Alya doesn’t want to think about how a drowned Chat Noir might affect this fight.

Alya sees a flash of orange out of the corner of her eye.

And as if the situation wasn’t already bad enough, there’s a girl flying in on a giant fox. Alya figures she probably isn’t here to help, considering Queen B’s warning the other day. She snatches Chat Noir from where he’s holding—

A yellow flash knocks her to the ground. Something spotted flies out of his hand to land to Alya’s left.

Queen B is trying to dodge the jaws of the massive fox. Ladybug is buried under a pile of drowned bodies and the Akuma is retreating into the water. Volpina has landed in front of Chat Noir. She’s got a flute in hand against his staff. It’s obvious that his mind isn’t on the fight. Chat Noir is jerky, desperate to get through to Ladybug’s side. Volpina’s focused on him and it’s enough to even their odds despite his superior skill.

Alya moves. She spares a passing regret for the hours Marinette put into crafting the exquisite dress that is singlehandedly responsible for at least four of tonight’s official quotes and two interview offers. She rips the slit in the side, extending it from halfway up her thigh to an indecent spot up on her hip. Hopefully it’ll be fixed by Ladybug’s spell later.

She runs from her spot behind one of the marble statues and away from the Akuma, towards Volpina. The villain sees her coming and raises that goddamn flute to her lips. As the first note hits the air, Alya dives to the side. She grits her teeth and grabs a polka-dotted shoe, because if there’s anything she’s learned in three years stalking superheroes, it’s that a lucky charm item is always going to be instrumental in saving the day. Guaranteed.

(Is that the limited-edition crystal Ladybug Louboutin?? Seriously???)

The second her hand touches the spotted heel, Alya curses under her breath. The buzz of magic at the base of her skull is summer this time. There’s a hint of watermelon and lemonade on the back of her tongue and her scalp and shoulders are pleasantly warm. The skin on her face is suddenly a little gross, like she’s wearing a layer of sunscreen and her makeup is starting to melt. There’s a lingering smell of freshly-cut grass in the air and everything is just a tiny bit brighter. To her surprise, the magic isn’t overpowering this time. It’s just there. Not trying to take her over and not rendering her unable to think. It’s there, but it’s letting her be. It’s— controlled.

An idea is starting. She needs to throw the shoe at the waiter hiding by that hedge who will then trip into the bearded man on the ground and stumble back and accidentally throw his tray of wine glasses into the air which will land in the—

Fuck that noise.

Ladybug’s magic might be more controlled and less invasive than that of the ‘lesser’ miraculous, but it’s still magic and still trying to tell her what to do.

Alya chucks it at Volpina’s head.

It breaks her concentration enough that the giant fox disappears. Not one to wait around, Queen B is up in the air in an instant, zipping over to support Ladybug while Chat’s shoulders loosen.

Volpina plays a single note and three clones appear.

It’s not quite a fair battle, because she can make new clones as soon as he manages to swat through them, but Chat Noir is holding his own against them. There’s a sharp shattering sound, and Alya looks over to where Queen B has Siren in a chokehold ten metres above the ground. She’s missing the pearl-encrusted crown she’d been wearing earlier. The zombies are all frozen, looking up at the now-powerless mermaid dangling in the air.

Alya’s too far away to see, but she can feel a whisper of magic in the air that comes with the cleansing of Akuma.

Queen B is floating down to earth with a little girl in her arms. She’s maybe six years old. Alya doesn’t recognise her, but the grass-stained jeans and purple tee-shirt say that she’s probably not a party guest.

There’s a feral growl, and Volpina kicks Chat Noir away from her before there’s a puff of orange smoke and a fox appears. This one is significantly smaller than the earlier image, and it looks distinctly raggedy. But it still manages to fly away with Volpina hanging on it’s tail.

Chat jumps up and grabs her ankle.

“Chat!” Ladybug’s shout is a command, and he obediently lets Volpina shake him off and fly away. He drops to the ground and lands on all fours as gracefully as, well... a cat and proceeds to wander over to Queen B as though it had been his idea to end the fight the whole time.

Alya grins.

Ladybug jumps over the river and grabs the shoe. With a cry of “Miraculous Ladybug” she throws it in the air and a swarm of Ladybugs restore the gardens to their original state.

Alya’s dress also gets a magic fix.

Ignoring the dazed and confused party guests standing around, Chat Noir follows some unspoken signal and takes the child from Queen B’s arms. He walks a couple of feet and extends his baton until he’s way in the sky. He lets it go and he’s flying through the roofs, a silhouette in the distance. Probably gone to return her to her parents before she can get in trouble for ruining the mayor’s party.

Alya stops her video recording and slumps a little, exhausted. Ladybug looks at least as bad as she feels and Queen B’s immaculate ponytail is little more than a giant knot.

From where she’s hovering, the heroine turns to look at Alya. She gives a quick nod of (hopefully) either acknowledgement or thanks and flies off into the night. Ladybug swings herself onto the roof of the hotel and also makes her exit.

Alya figures that’s her cue to leave the party. She double checks her phone, and yep, she’s still got a fight scene to edit for the LadyBlog and a bunch of phone numbers to call and follow up with tomorrow about interviews.

She heads inside to say goodbye to Chloe.  When there’s no sign of her, Alya gives up and goes home.

She doesn’t even manage to take her dress off before she falls into bed and passes out.

She also doesn’t notice the note sitting on her desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chloe  
> https://i.pinimg.com/736x/4c/e4/ea/4ce4ea7b1457720dce1556f7b004fc72--unique-homecoming-dresses-homecoming-dress-shorts.jpg
> 
> Alya  
> https://xo.lulus.com/images/product/xlarge/2741732_543402.jpg
> 
> Bug  
> https://i.pinimg.com/originals/b8/e6/0f/b8e60f6e35e4c0396a4d29d17e555feb.jpg


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> un-bee-leiveable will be on hold for at least the next month as i don't intend to write anything except the femslash feb prompts, sorry!

_Mlle. Cesaire,_

_Meet me on your rooftop Monday evening at 19h30._

_Merci,_

_QB_

Monday night finds Alya wrapped in blankets sitting on the roof of her apartment building. She's got the first draft of her French essay in one hand and a red pen in the other. There's a mug of herbal tea by her elbow.

She's almost through editing the essay when there's a low buzz of magic at the back of her head. She turns just as Bee’s dainty feet land on the old bricks. She smiles, and the hero smiles back.

“Miss Cesaire.” She starts, and Alya shakes her head.

“Please. It's Alya.”

“Alya then,” Queen B nods in acceptance. She takes a couple of steps forward and falls gracefully to her butt beside Alya.

She yawns.

“I apologize,” She says. “I’m tired. I stayed up late last night trying to figure out the best way to deal with Volpina.”

Alya makes a noise of understanding. “Any ideas?”

“Nothing yet,” sighs Queen B. “In all honesty, I’m entirely at a loss.”

She pauses for a few seconds. Then she lets out a breath and smiles at Alya. Something, mask or manner seems to drop from her, and she looks younger. She looks Alya’s age suddenly.

“I’m a little terrified of her.” It comes out as a rushed confession. “The only goal she seems to have is Ladybug’s death. Chat’s miraculous has been available a couple of times now, and she has yet to take advantage. It’s frustrating.”

“Why do you say she's after Ladybug?” Alya asks, because from what she’d seen, Volpina had spent most of the battle the other day focused on Chat and Bee.

Queen B leans back onto her hands and looks up to the sky.

“You saw her the other night.” She closes her eyes with a half-sigh. “She did everything in her power to keep Chat and I away. Siren’s one of the most powerful Akuma I’ve seen in terms of sheer variety of abilities. Volpina knew that Ladybug would eventually get overwhelmed as well as we did and did everything in her power to ensure that outcome.”

She pauses. Steels herself.

“The first time I fought her, I was patrolling with Ladybug. A—”

She cuts herself off.

“Chat was sick, so Ladybug and I ran the rooftops down by the river. Um. Anyway, she comes out of nowhere. Like magic. She just kind of appeared out of the shadows. And she started waving around a knife. I think she’d brought it with her specifically to hurt Ladybug. It looked… old and far more sleek and detailed than a construct would be. From what I’ve seen of the things she creates there’s a functionality and simplicity to it. Tools.

She made a couple of clones, and we got separated.

She almost took Bug’s head off while I was distracted. She completely ignored me. I spent five minutes trying to keep her from cutting off anything important but it was like being a bee. She swatted me away a couple times and just kept after Ladybug. Anyway, as soon as we get downtown, she took off.

The second time I fought her, I received text message requesting backup from the dynamic duo. Same thing. She attacked out of the blue. Knocked Ladybug out with a hit to the head and Chat was desperately trying to keep some of her clones from slitting her throat when I arrived. She saw me coming and left.

He told me after that she had had a couple of chances to take his ring. Papillon has this fascination with our jewelry, but Volpina didn’t even seem interested in stealing power. She just wants Ladybug to die.  

It’s strange and terrifying and I hate it. Not knowing when she’s coming or whether she will succeed. Ladybug is too important to have her throat slit in a back alley by a vengeful maniac, but I have no clue how to stop her.” She finishes.

She’s looking up, away from Alya.

Alya blinks. Takes a second to process. “Shit.”

There’s frustrated tears gathered at the corners of Queen B’s eyes and she lets out a sound between a sob and a shout.

Alya continues, “Ladybug is a symbol to the people of this city. To see her die… I’m not sure what it would do to us, but I don’t want to have to witness that.”

Neither of them really have anything more to say on the subject. Alya sits quietly and tries not to hear the suffocated gasps every few seconds.

There's one gasp bigger than the rest and Queen B looks up to the sky. She blinks rapidly and shakes her head. She takes a deep breath.

“We have a holding cell. Ladybug and Chat Noir want to let her rot in there until she gives up her miraculous. I want her taken out. But illegal imprisonment of an enemy? It has the potential to become a public relations nightmare. I’m not used to being applauded as a hero, and I may never be. But I have no desire to be a villain.”

Alya agrees.

“Why not just take it? Her miraculous.”

Queen B winces.

“Firstly, you should not know that term. And second, there's a bond of sorts. That's all I can tell you. But it would be not nice for her to have it stolen.”

Alya rolls her eyes.

“I've lived in this city with Papillon around for three years now. I am well aware that the source of your power is your miraculous.”

“Anyhow,” she continues. “We need to do something about Volpina. If the capture and torture strategy is what Ladybug wants to use, it’s what we use. The important part is how we catch her.”

Queen B doesn’t look at all surprised at Alya including herself in that statement.

“What do you know about her?” she asks.

Queen B looks blank.

“Powers? Limits? Allies? Motive? Identity? I know her illusions are disturbingly solid, and it feels like her magic is less potent as she uses it more. But do you know if she has any sort of timer? Does she need access to her flute to keep illusions running, or just to start them?”

Queen B is shaking her head.

“All I know is what I’ve seen while I was fighting. She almost certainly has to work with a single illusion at a time, excluding her clones. She absolutely needs the flute to initiate, but her clones kept going when Chat took it away when they fought her by the river. But her power… it’s not one of the big ones. She has a small sphere of influence, like Papillon’s possession, or my sting. She can probably do it with no recharge time and keep the illusion going indefinitely. I would say that the giant fox she used in the last battle was a stretch. Hypothetically, I could use sting to discharge enough energy to knock out a fairly large crowd, but I’ve been told it will take me out of commission for a fair while. Does that help?”

Alya nods. Knowing Queen B has a magical ability other than flight helps too.

Speaking of, “what can you tell me about your sting?”

Queen B smiles a little uncertainly, but doesn’t hold back. “It’s a simple electrical discharge that temporarily shuts down a person’s voluntary nervous system. They become unable to move any of their extremities. I’m told it’s like viewing the world through a television screen. Complete paralysis. It takes them out of commission for anywhere between five minutes and a week, depending on the current Bee’s power. Mine lasts about eight minutes on a healthy adult.

You can’t put that on the Ladyblog though. The Cat’s and Ladybug’s powers are well documented, but the only people who tend to know the abilities of the second-tier heroes are us and the Guardian.”

Alya nods. Sting sounds like one heck of a trump card.

“It takes a while to charge though. I need almost thirty seconds grounded to build it up.” She finishes, furrowing her brow.

Alya nods again.

“It sounds like we can probably just take her in during the next Akuma attack.”

Queen B’s eyes widen.

Alya shrugs. “It seems like Chat Noir and Ladybug are allergic to plans. Our best bet is just to distract her. Keep her away from them and use your sting if you can. Otherwise, take away her flute and hold her down until ladybug can tie her up.”

Queen B looks skeptical.

Alya grins. “Don’t overthink it. They say 90% of plans don’t survive first contact with the enemy, right? Just take her flute away. I’ll keep it away if you keep her distracted.”

She doesn’t look as reassured as Alya would like, but she’s at least considering.

She nods once, firmly and sets her mouth. “Let’s try it. But we keep in contact. I’ll drop off my spare Bluetooth headset. And I’ll drop off my number. Text me if you think of anything else?”

Alya nods.

Queen B smiles at her and Alya’s heart skips. She stands up and offers Alya a hand. Alya takes it. There’s a buzz of magic at the back of her mind and honey on her tongue, but she finds she doesn’t mind so much now that she’s fully conscious of everything else.

Queen B tugs at Alya’s hand a little and bends at the hips. She presses soft lips onto the back of Alya’s hand and there’s something intense in her eyes for a moment.

“Sleep well.” She says. She takes three steps back and turns. Her wings unfurl, transluscent and golden in the light of Alya’s candles and the streetlamps. She flies away.

Alya stands, stunned for a few seconds. She’s pretty sure she looks dumb, standing on a candlelit roof with a besotted grin on her lips.

She brings her hand up and blows a kiss into the empty night sky.

“You too.”

It takes three days for Papillon to make a move.

An Akuma bursts through the classroom window and Alya doesn't even wait long enough for it to announce itself before she's out of there. At this point, she's about 98% sure certain that Ladybug and Chat Noir are students at the school. They can more than handle regular run-of-the-mill Akuma by themselves. She's got her phone out and she's barreling towards the fire exit that she scoped out yesterday. It's time.

Alya: akuma at my HS. Rendezvous on the roof in 5 to wait for v.

Queen B: k

Alya makes it up to the roof 30 seconds after sending the text to find Queen B already there.

“You're an asshole and nobody likes you” she wheezes with a glare.

Queen B just laughs.

It takes two hundred and twelve seconds for B to spot a flame in the sky.

She comes out of the sun.

Queen B holds up a hand. Alya puts the little Bluetooth earpiece in and presses the call button on her phone.

She does kind of wish that Queen B had managed to get the actual superspy radio earpieces she’d requested from her contact in the intelligence community.

But there’s no static across the line, just B’s even breathing when the call connects.

Volpina flies almost to the classroom window when Queen B makes her move.

She runs off the ledge and drops, hands glowing blue-gold.

Alya peers over the edge of the school to watch.

Queen B drops straight into the giant fox Volpina’s riding. It disappears, and she swings an arm up instantaneously to grab Volpina’s ankle. She swats it away with her flute. The energy dissipates harmlessly and her wings flutter so quickly they blur as she regains her balance in the air.

Volpina has the flute to her lips. She’s landed on the ground and there’s three clones beside her now. Each one has a flute, but their magical signatures feel weak compared to hers.

Alya can tell them apart.

Something erupts out of the back of the building. Ladybug and Chat noir follow the monstrous snake.

“The one way on the left.” She whispers. “She’s real. Her flute’s the real one.”

Queen B doesn’t acknowledge, but she dives out of the sky and plucks the real Volpina off of the ground. The clones disappear. Volpina can’t seem to get her flute to her lips. She flies her up, drops her and does a big loop. She tackles the falling villain straight into the side of the school building right as a note rings out in the courtyard.

A fire is starting on the ground. Contained golden flames with a shape forming inside.

Queen B has the flute.

And then she doesn’t. The flute drops right into Alya’s lap. She tastes cinnamon and her skin is warm. Volpina is still sitting in a crater in the side of the building, stunned. Queen B’s gone to distract the newly-hatched phoenix construct in the courtyard.

“Go,” B says right into her ear. “You won’t get a better chance. Hide, I’ll call you when Ladybug gets here.”

Alya should do exactly that.

The building is clear and she knows at least a dozen hidey-holes where she could wait out the fight.

But she’s a reporter at heart. She needs to watch. She needs to _know._

Queen B’s kicking at the phoenix. It’s ineffectual, and only making the construct more irritated.

There’s a break in the magic.

“Below the beak.”

Queen B takes off, straight up into the air. The phoenix follows.

“Hide already. Before she gets up.”

Alya glances down. Volpina’s gone.

“I think that’s mine.” Says a silky accented voice from behind her. Shit. No proximity warning because the flute already has her enveloped in Volpina’s magic.

Alya drops it, and rises. She lunges forward, fist extended.

Volpina hops out of the way easily. Alya stumbles into a crouch. She turns.

Realistically, Alya didn't expect that to work. She charges. Straight-on rugby tackle, but there's no impact. Volpina spins her in the air and sends her flying back.

Alya’s falling.

The building is two stories. Queen B’s still up in the air…  literally. Alya can see her land a hit to the soft underside of the Phoenix’s neck. It shatters into a shower of golden sparks and Queen B looks down.

She looks at Alya and then over to the roof, frozen in midair.

There's a whole lot of pain in her shoulder and then her head hits something and Alya passes out.

 

She wakes to the blue-tinged light of hospital, surrounded. She’s lying on a cot with a sling immobilizing her left arm. There’s a sister curled up on either side of her and Marinette’s asleep in the chair beside her bed.  Alya’s parents aren’t there, but if the twins are here, that means they’re nearby.

Alya doesn’t feel nearly as awful as she’d expected. There’s some pain in her shoulder, and her head is a little fuzzy. There’s a barrier between her pain and her mind. They probably gave her some kind of painkillers.

Marinette stirs. She looks up at Alya with bleary eyes and smiles softly.

“Hey. We were worried about you. I heard what happened. You were really brave.”

Alya smiles back. Mari really is the best friend ever.

She grabs her hand.

“You’re just here for the afternoon. That was a nasty fall. You have a concussion and you separated your acromioclavicular joint.” Marinette sounds out the injury with an expression of intense concentration.

Alya nods. Sounds medical and accurate to her. She’ll ask Adrien or Alix later.

Marinette smiles at her. “How are you feeling?”

“Dazed. Drugged. Pissed Queen B let me fall to my doom.” Alya says with a shrug.

Marinette purses her lips the way she does when she thinks you've said something dumb.

Alya raises her eyebrows.

Marinette inhales and bites her lower lip.

“I don't like that she put you in a position to get hurt but I don't think it was her fault you did.” She blurts.

Alya frowns and Mari shrugs a little helplessly.

“Volpina was down. You had the flute. You should have run. I know you well enough to know that you never would, but she doesn't.” Marinette says.

“You think I should have run away and hidden like a coward!”

“NO!” Mari exclaims and stops. “Well, yes actually. I would have. Alya, you aren't a superhero and you don't have the power or the training to stop her.”

Alya considers it. But Marinette has always been driven by a strong sense of self-preservation where magic is concerned.

They're different. Alya knows there's no way in hell she would have left in the middle of a story like that.

“She got away, didn't she?” She asks even though the ending is pretty clear,

Mari nods.

“But they got the akuma. Kim took video of the fight that he says he emailed.”

Alya grabs her phone. Kim’s videos aren't as good as Mylène’s, but they're always clear and he doesn't spook easily.

 

Alya emerges from several hours on the internet at a knock at her window. She doesn’t bother to get out of her bed, but she can hear the windowpane sliding up. Based on the almost-soundless window entry, it’s either Volpina coming in to finish what she’d started earlier or Bee.

Alya is entirely sure she would rather not see either of them right now.

The air tastes like honey. Volpina is cinnamon.

“Go away Queen B.” Alya says, harsh and angry.

There’s no more footsteps.

“You asked for my help and then you sat back and watched when she pushed me off a building. I don’t want to see you and I don’t want any part of your plans for a few days.” Alya says.

“You volunteered.” Queen Bee snarls.

She walks around to the side of Alya’s cot. Her eyes are vividly blue and narrowed in fury.

“You made yourself a part of every plan. You have always been well aware that you could get hurt. Knowing that you could get caught in the crossfire and killed.

You've been following Ladybug around for years. You know the risks, don't kid yourself. You're 18 Alya, not 10.”

“You were supposed to protect me.” Alya shoots back. “You could have grabbed me. I’ve seen you fly. But you didn’t move.”

Queen B shakes her head.

“You wanted to be a hero. You want to be Ladybug’s BFF. You went in powerless and you left yourself a target for Volpina instead of sticking to your barely-there plan.”

Alya is stunned. Arrogance and disgust drip from her words like poison. It stings.

“You may have gotten hurt, but you knew what you were doing.”

Queen B rests her elbows on the cot and gives Alya an icy smile.

“Every time I suit up, I'm sacrificing my grades, my internship opportunities, my college applications and my social life. But somebody has to do it.

It took me a week to accept the responsibility. But with that, I accepted the sacrifices and I accepted the risks. I accepted the fact that it could take months, it could take years before I could make a difference. Before I was good enough to fight on the same level as Ladybug and Chat Noir. Every time I suit up, I accept the risk of injury, I accept that I could be tortured, I know that they could steal my Kwami. There's a chance that this will kill me, and it's not an insignificant risk.

But you came in with no training and no dedication. You’re clever. You can plan ahead and you can see through Volpina’s ruses. You’re a useful ally to have. But not if you change plans halfway through without letting anyone know. Not if I can’t depend on you.

If you want to be a hero, you have to take responsibility.

I have a responsibility to follow through. Because otherwise, if I don't put on the suit and paint a target on my back, it's somebody else taking those risks. And I can't accept the idea that it could be a civilian, not when I could do something to stop it.

You were one of those civilians until you chose to be something else. That means I have to trust you to be okay while I’m fighting. Trust you to be clever and canny and trust you to communicate if you’re not. Either you accept that it’s more work than holding a camera up in a villain’s face while Ladybug saves your stupid ass, and you're in, or you walk away.

You have my number. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll assume you ran away.”

Before Alya can give her an answer, before she can even begin to process, Bee is up in the air, flying through the window into the night.

So Alya will do the same.

She’ll walk away.

Queen Bee is an asshole anyway.

Alya gets home and can’t stop thinking about heroes.

It’s on a loop; Papillon, Volpina, Queen B. How she fits. How everything ends. She sits at her computer, going over old footage of the first time Ladybug and Chat Noir had fought Volpina three years ago.

No one had ever figured out that akuma’s identity (was she even an akuma??), but even through the screen she can tell the girl isn’t a legitimate hero. She can’t help but wonder how she’d been fooled so well in the first place.

That being said, Alya thinks they might actually be the same person. The old Volpina has the same sway in her hips when they walk. A slight accent. A roll of the R that’s just a little heavy and a slight emphasis on every a. Similar build, and a height difference that could easily be attributed to the growth spurt a teenage girl might go through in three years. Hair the exact same shade of brown, perfect ski slope nose and mesmerising blue-green eyes.

It’s a distinct possibility. A week ago, she’d have put the theory on the Ladyblog without a second thought. But…

Alya has no desire to give Queen Bee the advantage after today. It may be childish and petty and could conceivably endanger either the heroes or the civilians they were supposed to protect.

She still doesn’t want to do it.

Alya checks the clock at her bedside. It’s one fifteen. No sane person is awake at this hour.

She rubs at her eyes.

No Ladyblog, but she can get them the information.

Alya: I know u know ladybug. Tell her this fox walks the same as the first one. Same accent. Same nose. Same eyes.

Guilt sits it her gut. It’s hot and heavy and shifting uncomfortably. But somebody knows now. Besides, Adrien always knows everything. She and Nino had decided years ago that he knows who at least one of the city’s heroes is.

She flicks the lights and falls into bed.

The guilt didn’t go away in the morning and she was distracted all through her morning classes. In fact, she doesn’t really remember much until Adrien pulls her out of it at lunch.

Six of them are sitting around the lunch table. Mari and Chloe are talking about shoes (Alya still doesn’t understand how that friendship happened), Sabrina and Adrien are discussing something sciencey and Nino is staring at her.

“What?”

Nino’s eyebrows furrow. “Last week. The Siren? You posted the videos this morning. How did you snap out of it?”

Alya shrugs.

“I’ve got a theory about that, actually.” Adrien says.

They all look at him. He grins. And starts lecturing.

“By this point, your average non-magic using Parisian has been around enough Akuma or been around our heroes enough to build up a sensitivity to the energy that gives them their abilities. Almost everyone in our class has been possessed, and from what a few of you have told me, actual physical contact with either Ladybug or Chat Noir gives you a bit of a buzzing sensation in the back of your mind.” He pauses to look up at Alya, then makes eye contact with Chloe and Nino.

“Now, I have no idea if this holds true for Queen B, considering she’s new and tends to fly high enough, literally, that she doesn’t actually end up touching people. I would say that because you’ve been ‘touched’ so to speak by Papillon and influenced by him, your awareness of magic is greater than most. In fact, I might even be willing to call it a resistance to magic. Not enough to stop him from possessing you again, but certainly enough to evade most Akuma’s wide-range effects, if you’re aware. If they’re focusing their abilities on you, it wouldn’t likely be enough to make a difference, but the attacks that are meant to take out or transform dozens of people at a time are less concentrated, and thus a determined ex-villain could shake them off.

That explains why Alya snapped out of The Siren’s attack so quickly and why The Ribbeter couldn’t get Ivan and Mylene to start jumping around like lunatics last month. It also explains why he was able to influence Ivan later on, once he had hunted him down.” Adrien has the undivided attention of every person at their table by this point, and more than a couple of others are listening in.

Alya can’t help but notice that he is a remarkably effective speaker. He shifts his weight and gestures just enough to keep his delivery from being stiff. His voice is slow and even, without a hint of nervousness. And he pauses enough to let his audience process, smiling and keeping everyone at ease. It doesn’t hurt that his arguments make sense, and that he’s backed them up with evidence they have all already seen on the news or heard first-hand from each other.

“Now, I would say that unless I’ve met one of Paris’s heroes undercover, Alya has had more contact with magic than anyone else I know. She’s been Akumatised two times, sorry; three,” he corrects when she holds three fingers up at him, “and pulled back into a possessed persona by another Akuma twice. She also gets up close and personal with about eighty percent of the city’s Akuma either by a reporter’s determination or the sheer bad luck that seems to follow this class.”

Alya grins. “You know, the heroes probably actually don’t have a resistance.”

Adrien grins, slowly (Marinette makes a choking sound.)

“Of course. Why would inherently magical creatures be resistant to magic?” Adrien says, shaking his head with a grin at her.

“It’s not fair that he gets to be both the pretty friend and the smart one.”  Nino whines, “leave something for the rest of us bro.”

Marinette, Sabrina and Chloe erupt into giggles.

“Enough,” Chloe commands. “Let’s talk about your dad’s show next weekend and the tickets in your pocket.”

There’s a lot of squealing and teasing after that.

Adrien eventually admits that he’s gotten them a box. Marinette looks like she’s about to melt.

“Sleepover tonight?” She mouths at her best friend.

Marinette nods eagerly and points to Chloe and Sabrina. Alya nods. It’s about time they were indoctrinated into cookie night anyhow.


End file.
